


When a Heart Breaks

by plumtrees



Series: MatsuHana Week 2015 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Emotional Sex, Future Fic, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 6 for MatsuHana Week: Love is Never Ever Simple</p><p>-</p><p>"You must know." Issei starts, his voice like a thunderclap in the silence of the car. "Even if you won't let me say it you must at least know that I still do, even after everything."</p><p>God, yes, of <em>course</em> he knows. He felt it last night, with every way Issei worshipped his body and made love to him until they both ached.</p><p>"I do," he confirms, but it is cold and robotic and does nothing but cause Issei to shrink in his seat. "I just don't understand why you think saying that's gonna change anything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When a Heart Breaks

He moans and arches back against the sheets, whining when Issei's fingers slide out. Issei kisses him, and it tides him over for the seconds it takes Issei to prepare, taking himself in a hand slick with lubricant. His weight bears down on him gently and Takahiro wraps arms around his middle, hands seeking purchase against his back, fingers digging into the hard lines of muscle and tanned skin as Issei finally breaches him.

He groans in relief when he finally takes all of Issei's cock inside of him. Suddenly, he feels alive again. Sex with anyone else has never, ever felt like this, this perfect, this right.

Issei explores his body with a tender familiarity, knows where to touch and where to linger. He waits patiently for him to adjust. He sighs and sinks his head back against the pillow, breaths coming in slow, unhurried exhales and Issei knows he's ready, can read every single one of his nonverbal cues and interprets them with absolute accuracy. Takahiro feels a warm glow swell in his chest, full of affection and love for this man who knows him so well. Issei begins to move, slowly pulling away from his embrace to kneel. Takahiro lets him go with some hesitation, watching the point at which they're connected with a rapt fascination, watching Issei slip out of him then sink back in, shivering at the feel of him. It's always so amazing how easily his body accepts Issei, even after all these years. Issei takes his legs and hooks his ankles on his shoulders, causing him to gasp at the shift in angle.

"Harder." he begs, when Issei's cock drags along the spot that makes his vision go white. He wants to be able to feel him long after he's pulled out. Issei complies, fucking into him with harsh, desperate jerks of his hips like it's the last time. A venomous thought rears its ugly head but Takahiro pushes it back. He won't let anything ruin this moment, because here, now, he has Issei, and he's all he will ever need.

 _Harder, fuck me, please, oh god, Issei_ , he continues to beseech, until the pain and the loud, vulgar sounds of sex silence his thoughts, until he's completely incapable of speech, nothing but moans and screams spilling from his lips.

Issei's rhythm doesn't falter even as he presses them together, almost folds Takahiro in half as he kisses along the column of his throat, already lined with angry red marks he left earlier. Issei leaves no words, has never really been much of a talker during sex, but declares everything he feels in the way his tongue laves the most sensitive parts of Takahiro's body, the way his hand seeks out Takahiro's and laces their fingers together.

God, he _missed_ this.

Issei's moaning too, grunting with every smack of his hips against Takahiro's ass. It's been far too long, and everything is too intense, and Takahiro's mind is a mess of emotions. He wants this to last but cannot hope to, not when Issei is knocking against his prostate so wonderfully, not when his cock is grinding against his abs. Takahiro holds tight to Issei's hand as he comes with a broken cry, toes curling, every muscle jerking and throbbing as he rides out his orgasm, clenching sporadically around Issei.

Issei groans, pauses to let him recover, kisses him through the aftershocks. Issei gently sets his legs down, sitting back on his heels and Takahiro finally regains enough control of his body to respond in kind, rolling his hips to encourage Issei to chase his own completion too. Issei nods and continues his thrusts, lets his muscle memory take over, rhythm burned into the very marrow of his bones from years spent doing it. Takahiro chokes when Issei finally comes, sudden and strong, inside him. The wash of warmth is so foreign, because even when he lets other people fuck him, Issei is the only person he'd ever let this close, this intimate. Issei's thrusts slow down, his cock continuing to force his own cum deeper inside Takahiro, some spilling out when he pulls out then pushes himself back in.

Takahiro lifts leaden legs to wrap around Issei's waist, hooks his feet at the small of his back to keep him there, keep them connected. His free hand rests low on his belly, where he can still feel Issei, the heavy weight of his cock, the warmth of his cum. He doesn't want it to end, and when Issei looks down at him and rests his hand over Takahiro's, he can almost fool himself into thinking that it never will.

-

He wakes up the next morning and Issei is still in bed. He wants to stay as long as he possibly can, but a quick glance at the clock forces him up. He winces at the pain that shoots up his spine when he sits. He bites his tongue to keep from making a sound and gingerly walks to the shower.

He finishes in ten minutes and Issei is already up, making breakfast. Takahiro knows he should dissuade him, wave him over to the bathroom and tell him to shower or else he'll be late, but his tongue feels swollen and heavy in his mouth. In the end, he says nothing. There is nothing that comes to mind that doesn't feel like something he'll end up regretting. He'd already indulged himself too much last night by letting this happen.

He stands there and Issei passes him after putting down a plate of scrambled eggs on the table, where a cup of coffee and utensils are also set up. Issei takes a shower and he eats the scrambled eggs, silently notes that Issei has gotten better at it now, compared to when they were still living together. He abandons the plate with more than half the eggs still uneaten.

They drag Issei's luggage to the trunk of his car and he starts it up once Issei's in the passenger seat.

-

After five minutes he shuts off the radio because he realizes that the playlist that's on is the one Issei made for him. He can feel Issei's gaze on him and he's grateful for the fact that he's driving, that he has this reason to keep his eyes glued forward.

Silence reigns, and that would have been perfectly fine for Takahiro, but he can see Issei opening and closing his mouth from the edge of his vision, knows he's gathering the nerve to say something. Takahiro just wishes he'd get on with it.

"I'm sorry I fucked up." Issei whispers, oddly raw, and Takahiro realizes he hasn't looked at him properly since he'd stepped out of the bathroom. He spares quick glances, notes his sunken and red-rimmed eyes, then hastily looks away.

"Takahiro, I lo—"

"Don't."

The sound of his own voice surprises him. His hands are clenched tight against the steering wheel, enough to cause the leather to squeak in protest. He doesn't want to hear 'I should have's or 'I'm sorry's or _anything_.

Finally, the airport is in sight and he allows himself a deep sigh of relief through his nose.

-

Issei doesn't leave immediately, and the air slowly grows thinner around them. Takahiro wishes he had enough assertiveness to tell Issei to never come back, that he never wants to see him again, but he knows none of those are true, that he's not nearly unselfish enough to let go of Issei completely, even when he knows he should.

"You must know." Issei starts, his voice like a thunderclap in the silence of the car. "Even if you won't let me say it you must at least know that I still do, even after everything."

God, yes, of _course_ he knows. He felt it last night, with every way Issei worshipped his body and made love to him until they both ached.

"I do," he confirms, but it is cold and robotic and does nothing but cause Issei to shrink in his seat. "I just don't understand why you think saying that's gonna change anything."

Issei is uncharacteristically shifty and it clicks in his head that Issei's _still_ hoping. Hoping that maybe the magic of those three words will fix everything that's gone wrong with them, like it used to. A part of Takahiro that still longs for Issei wishes that it could, wishes that he can be selfish enough to drive them both back to his apartment and let their life finally play out how Takahiro has always wanted it to, how he'd always dreamed it would.

But he can't. Not when he's the one who talked Issei into marrying the woman he'd accidentally knocked up, not when he knows somewhere in Issei's house there is a little girl, just barely two years old, waiting for her father to come home from his _business trip_.

It's impossible now. Whatever potential they had between them will never come to fruition, whatever future they could have had together has already been taken away by careless mistakes and hard decisions. Issei's 'I love you's don't belong to him anymore.

"You should go." he says, before he can lose his composure. "You wouldn't want to keep Ai-chan waiting."

And that's the final nail in the coffin. Mentioning Issei's daughter by name always manages to drive the point home. Issei stares at him, a slew of emotions crossing his face. Grief, desperation, sorrow, then, resignation. His hand, painfully slowly, opens the door of Takahiro's car and he steps out. Takahiro wordlessly opens the trunk for him.

When the trunk slams shut he counts down from thirty, eyes closed. When he opens them again, he glances at the rear-view mirror and sees no one.

-

He doesn't drive straight home, the place still too fresh with the memory of Issei pinning him against the walls, kissing the breath right out of him and replacing it with his own, carrying him across the small apartment until they reach the bedroom.

He sits in the bed of a motel room and his skin doesn't quite fit right, like it's too loose, like there are too many empty spaces. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, counterpoint to the furious thudding of his heart.

He recalls the first bone he's ever broken, remembers the sharp crack ripping through the silence and the excruciating pain shooting up his right arm. He'd screamed then, screamed and cried until his mother found him. She'd asked him what was wrong, why was he crying, and Takahiro recalls saying _it hurts, it hurts_ over and over.

He doesn't scream now, doesn't cry even though it hurts so much worse than that broken arm, because there's no one who can hear him. He lies in bed and curls up and waits for the pain to subside, like he's been doing for the past two years.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 5 is in my laptop, which I accidentally left in my dorm. Will post it later!!! ;~;


End file.
